


Thunder and Lightning

by girlwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithaplan/pseuds/girlwithaplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt from tumblr:<br/>Imagine your OTP getting trapped inside in the middle of a bad storm. The lights go out and the wind gets really bad. Person A gets really scared and Person B has to comfort them and tell them everything will be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder and Lightning

Thunder cracks through the apartment so loudly it makes Bucky startle and nothing scares him anymore. (Unless you count that clown at Coney Island. But he technically could've been an operative in disguise, so the running away was justified.) He laughs at himself and pulls the blinds open to watch the storm rage through Brooklyn. Flashes of lightning light up the room and the apartment's lights flicker forebodingly.

Bucky thinks the rain is beautiful, but the storm chaotic. He lets his mind wander at the juxtaposition for awhile until a particularly loud clap of thunder does the trick and all the lights go out. Grumbling to himself, Bucky stumbles into the kitchen and finds a flashlight. Before he's even got the damned thing turned on, he hears a loud crash from the bedroom. He'd been so distracted watching out the window that he forgot temporarily that Steve was in there, reading or sketching or something.

After a few more fumbles and several more choice words, Bucky gets the flashlight working and sprints down the hall, hoping to whatever deity he can think of that Steve hasn't hurt himself. He flings the door open and shines the flashlight around to see...no one. Steve's not in the en suite bathroom either. Bucky's not worried, not yet at least, but he's very wary. That is, until he hears sniffling. It's very quiet, almost imperceptible, but Bucky's highly trained ears catch it.

Slowly, he walks to their huge walk-in closet and eases the door open. At first glance, he sees nothing but a row of his clothes hanging to his left and Steve's to his right. Barely a second passes before he hears a louder sniffle and what could be the beginnings of choked-off sob. Increasingly confused and concerned, Bucky silently moves to the back of the closet where there's a row of Steve's hideous kakhis. He knows from his days of not leaving the apartment early on in his recovery that there's unused space at the back of the closet. They've talked about putting weapons there or maybe Steve's art supplies but haven't gotten around to it.

Cautiously, with one hand on the knife in his belt and the other gripping the flashlight, Bucky pushes back the mass of tan fabric to find Steve, backed into a corner, hunched in on himself, crying and trying not to make a sound. Louder than he means to be, Bucky asks, "Steve? What are you doing?"

Steve scrambles to sit up (he's way too tall to stand up back here) and hastily scrubs at his face. "Nothing, Buck. I'm fine." Bucky crouches in front of Steve so the flashlight illuminates his face, which is flushed and tear-streaked and his eyes are roaming, like he's looking for a threat. "Are you hurt?" Bucky asks, reaching a hand toward Steve, "Are you sick?" Steve shakes his head and doesn't recoil from Bucky's touch, but he's very stiff. Gently, Bucky cups Steve's chin in his hand and lifts his face so their eyes meet. "Tell me what's wrong," he says firmly, but, he hopes, lovingly.

The muscles in Steve's neck tense and he stares Bucky down for a solid minute before another loud crack of thunder shakes the apartment and his face crumples. "It's the storm, Buck," Steve says, breathless and embarrassed, "I hate 'em. I k-know it's dumb, but I can't help it. It reminds me of, of," Steve breaks off into another sob, his whole body trembling. Bucky is surprised, to say the least. How had Steve not mentioned his fear before?

Oh yeah, he remembers, Steve's the most stubborn asshole in the world. He rarely lets himself be vulnerable, even with Bucky, so this must be really bad.

Bucky sits down cross-legged on the floor and draws Steve in, murmuring, "C'mon Stevie, come here." Steve's attempts to resist are pitiful, so Bucky's able to pull him onto his lap and turn so Bucky's back is against the wall. Steve hasn't stopped  
crying and Bucky can feel his sweatshirt getting damp. So he runs a hand up and down Steve's back, hoping it helps. He doesn't say anything because he doesn't know what to say to this revelation that Steve's afraid of thunderstorms.

In a few minutes, Steve's able to catch his breath and he just slumps against Bucky, exhausted. Bucky keeps stroking his back and rests his cheek against Steve's hair. "What does it remind you of?" Bucky asks quietly, wrapping his metal arm around Steve's hips when he tries to squirm away.

"I never told anybody this," Steve says, and his uncertainty breaks Bucky's heart. He leans down and kisses Steve's forehead, "You can tell me, I'm a vault." Steve sighs and grabs onto Bucky's metal arm to anchor himself. A little shiver of pleasure runs up Bucky's spine at the thought of his metal arm (his inhuman, Hydra weapon) being comforting to Steve.

"Right after the train," Steve starts shakily, and Bucky's not sure he's ready for this story, "me and the Commandos were trying to make it back to base when a huge storm hit. It was freezing rain after all that snow and the thunder was deafening." Steve shivers and Bucky holds him closer. "I got separated and had to make camp alone. My tent would barely stay up, so I curled up as tight as I could to try to stay warm but it was so cold, Buck."

He nuzzles his face into Bucky's neck and breathes deeply, twice, before finishing, " I jumped every time the thunder started because I thought it was a gun or a bomb and I'd be dead. Then I remembered you were dead already and I," Steve's crying again, hot tears splashing onto Bucky's skin, "I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was like every thunder was my death and every flash of light reminded me that you were gone, that you'd fallen into that bright white snow and I couldn't save you."

Bucky's shocked and relieved. An odd mixture, but at least he knows what he's dealing with now. He waits until Steve's calmed down again to squeeze him tight and say, "You should've told me, love. I could've hidden out with you." He can feel Steve's eyebrows raise since he's got his face mashed into Bucky's neck. "You don't think I'm stupid?"

A chuckle escaped Bucky's lips and he scratches Steve's scalp, "Well, sometimes, but not right now." Before Steve can respond, another rumble, somehow even louder, shakes the windows and he tenses, clutching Bucky and whimpering. Bucky keeps his fingers moving in Steve's hair and whispers, "Shh, Stevie. It's okay. I'm here."

When they eventually emerge from the closet, Steve holding Bucky's metal hand tightly, they haven't regained power and won't soon, by the sound of the wind. After some coaxing and reassurance, Bucky gets Steve down to his boxers and into bed, piling extra blankets on top of him. Steve's bottom lip quivers when Bucky tells him he's leaving the room, so Bucky has no choice but to kiss him softly and promise to be quick.

Moving fast, Bucky snatches up a reusable grocery bag and fills it with lots of snacks and water bottles. He hoists it onto his shoulder to free up his hands to grab as many candles as he can find and a box of matches.

He tells Steve to hide under the covers and Steve does without a second thought. In no time, Bucky's placed a candle in every sturdy spot in the room (8 in all) and lit them, bathing the room in a soft glow. He sits the snacks on the bedside table and, after rummaging in his drawers, finds a speaker and plugs in his phone.

When the soft tones of Bucky's classical piano Pandora station fill the air, Steve pokes his head out from the blanket with wide eyes. His lover strips down to his own underwear and climbs in under the covers as well. Steve's blushing and he asks, "Why'd you do all this, Buck?" He's sitting up, smoothing his hands over and over the top of the blankets, clearly still anxious.

Bucky sidles up to him and traces his cheekbones with one finger before leaning in to kiss it, murmuring, "Trying to distract you. Is it working?" He looks up hopefully at Steve who half-smiles back. "Yeah, but I'm not really up for, umm, you know," Steve trails off, hands still clasping and unclaspibg nervously. He doesn't jump when the next bit of thunder rolls through, but it's obviously still bothering him.

"Relax, baby doll, I'm just trying to love on you, not make a move or nothin'." Steve side-eyes him and sighs, "Don't need to be babied." But Bucky's not having it. He puts his flesh hand on Steve's back and rubs in purposeful circles. His metal hand reaches out to grab one of Steve's and he starts kissing him again, just ghosting over his cheek, his nose, his eyebrows, the side of his neck. All the while, he's saying things like, "I'm here", "I've got you", "It's gonna be okay".

Finally, he gets Steve to lay down and cuddle with him for real, pressing Steve's face into Bucky's chest and tangling their legs together. Each clap of thunder is quieter and Steve shakes a little less.

Soft as he can, Bucky starts singing to Steve, wrapping him up snugly in his arms.

_Come stop you're crying, it'll be alright. Just take my hand, hold it tight.  
I will protect you from all around you; I will be here don't you cry._

Steve's asleep by the time Bucky finishes the song and he whispers even though Steve can't hear him, "Always, Stevie. I'll always love you."

They both sleep through the remainder of the storm and well into the next morning.


End file.
